


hanging onto your heartbeat

by kokirane



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre/Post Episode 9, alternating pov, just the times they wake up together and how that goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 01:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokirane/pseuds/kokirane
Summary: Fighting and kissing comes easier than sweet words for both of them, but when Kaoru wakes up — Kojiro might tell him just how much he loves him. Wholly and stupidly, then, now, and forever.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 20
Kudos: 304





	hanging onto your heartbeat

Usually, Kaoru is the one who wakes up first. The moment sunlight filters in, he’s up — he might peer through the blinds at the unraveling morning, or head the kitchen. But he won’t go without a soft, tentative kiss against Kojiro’s cheek. Kojiro wakes up soon after, the warmth on his cheek lingering like a phantom butterfly. 

Today, Kaoru is still fast asleep, curled up under the covers even as the sun lovingly falls all over him. They’re both on edge about this tournament, and it shows: a furrow in Kaoru’s brow, a twist to his lips, and Kojiro — Kojiro has a knot in his chest, his stomach, that just won’t let up. 

In the silence, Kojiro’s exhale feels too heavy. 

When Kojiro slides out from the blankets, Kaoru doesn’t even stir. Kojiro sits at the edge of the bed, watches: the way Kaoru’s chest rises and falls, the way there’s a strand of hair caught between parted lips. He lets himself look for a moment longer, lets himself brush the curl of hair back, skim Kaoru’s jaw. Without the glasses, he looks a bit younger, but still — the weariness cuts through. 

Kojiro tucks the blankets around Kaoru a little tighter, a whisper of an embrace, and then he makes his way to the kitchen. He still feels half-asleep, going through the motions, but he puts on some music, turns on the stove, and the morning starts to come together. 

He’s just finished making the omelettes and pouring the coffee when Kaoru finally shuffles over, scowling. “You woke me up.”

Kojiro just holds up a plate and a mug. Kaoru immediately takes them and heads off to the table. 

“Hurry up before it gets cold,” Kaoru says, cradling his mug of coffee. 

“So impatient. You can’t rush perfection.” Kojiro moves in exaggerated slow motion as he plates his own breakfast, fills himself a cup of coffee. Kaoru’s glare is deadly; it only makes him laugh.

“Tell that to Langa,” Kaoru muses. “The way that rookie’s going…” 

“He’s interesting,” Kojiro agrees, clinking his cup against Kaoru’s. “Going up against Adam like that?” 

Kaoru takes a pensive sip. “And the way Adam reacted? All the more reason that I’ll beat him—” 

“Before something else happens,” Joe finishes. “But hey, I’m with you.”

Kaoru raises an eyebrow. “You think I can’t do it? Are you doubting me, Kojiro?”

“It’s called encouragement, ever heard of it?” Kojiro says. “Don’t get so riled up, Kaoru."

“If you just kept quiet, I wouldn’t.”

“What, am I just here to feed you?” 

“Mhm.” Kaoru kicks out his foot, rests it against Kojiro’s leg gently. “Meals and housing.”

“Then just move in,” Kojiro says, knowing it’ll make Kaoru puff up like an annoyed cat. But Kaoru just raises his eyebrow again. 

“Looking to increase your overtime? You won’t get any extra benefits.”

“Hey, you’re totally a piece of work, but you’re not a job.” Kojiro waves a hand. “Because we both know I’m _not_ getting paid enough for this.” 

Kaoru kicks him this time. “Shut up.” 

“You shut up.” Kojiro sticks out his tongue. Kaoru copies him, and moments later, they’re both laughing. 

“It’s like nothing’s ever changed with you,” Kojiro says, half fond, half exasperated. 

“Everything else has changed enough,” Kaoru sighs. “Something should stay the same, right?” 

“Yeah,” Kojiro says. “But hey, it’s nice to have you over more. That’s been a good change.”

“Only because your cooking got better.”

“Just the cooking? Nothing else?”

“Mm, you changed your mattress, finally.” 

“Asshole,” Kojiro says affectionately. “All I do for you, and this is what I get?”

“You get _enough.”_

“I disagree, respectfully.” Kojiro imitates Kaoru’s lofty tone. “Perhaps we should renegotiate the terms—” 

Kaoru throws a napkin at his face, and then they’re laughing again. 

* * *

Kaoru doesn’t remember closing his eyes. He had been determined not to look away from Adam, not to back down, but suddenly, Adam is gone, and Kojiro is there.

If there was ever going to be a time when Kaoru would let himself reach out for Kojiro, it would be now. But he can’t move his arms, and he can barely speak. And if he could let go of the breath that he didn’t know he had been holding, he would. But it comes out as a shaking cough, and then Kojiro is kneeling down to lift him up.

The last time Kojiro had carried him comes to mind, and it’s so out of place and ridiculous that Kaoru could laugh. Their day at the beach feels so far away, and Kaoru remembers his own anger as if it’s someone else’s. Now, he would take being thrown into the ocean a thousand times over this. 

If he closes his eyes now, it doesn’t feel like backing down, not when it’s Kojiro that’s here with him. He leans into the embrace and sighs, trying to imagine that they’re back under the sun, and that what he hears is the sound of the sea and not the pounding of Kojiro’s heart. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers. “So don’t cry, idiot.” 

“You’re the one that’s crying,” comes the choked reply. Kojiro sounds like he’s trying to laugh, but can’t manage it. 

_Am I…?_

How is he supposed to know, when it hurts all over? 

“I’m okay,” is all he can say, and presses himself closer to Kojiro’s chest. Even if it hurts a little, it’s okay. He’s okay. 

* * *

There isn’t much sunlight in Kaoru’s hospital room. 

Kojiro’s the first one awake again, solely because he isn’t able to sleep unless Kaoru is okay. So really — he just hasn’t slept for more than a few stuttering minutes against the palms of hands. No amount of sunlight or tiredness matters here, because the doctors say that Kaoru needs a lot of sleep right now. And it makes sense, but Kojiro, more than anything, wants him to just wake up.

Kojiro doesn’t consider himself sentimental. But he remembers when Kaoru became Cherry Blossom, the elegant skater; remembers when Kaoru became Kaoru Sakurayashiki, popular calligrapher. But he’s always been _just Kaoru_ too, more than any of that: the one who would be there to bicker with him, skate with him, steal food off his plate, and bitch about their travel itineraries. The one who challenges him, knows him better than anyone — the one who loves him and the one who stays with him. Kaoru is so much, _means_ so much.

And all Kojiro could do was wrap Kaoru up in his jacket, shielding him, and get him out of there. He hadn’t said what he had wanted to, before — just stared at Kaoru, breathless and lost, and then, and then — 

He just wonders if Kaoru _knows._ He’s sure he does, but — _does he know?_

Until now, Kojiro had assumed that, even if they didn’t seem like it, he and Kaoru were on the same page. Things could be surprisingly simple with them. And the most simple fact of all is that Kojiro loves Kaoru. Loves him as wholly and stupidly as he loves skating. And he knows Kaoru loves him just as much, knows it in the confident chime of the bell when Kaoru comes to his restaurant, never hesitating to overstay his welcome — knows it in the way Kaoru looks when he laughs, head tipping back and eyelashes fluttering, when it’s just the two of them. 

So why dance around each other so obviously? What had Adam called it? A script? Kojiro doesn’t have enough energy to scoff, but he would if he could. 

Looking at Kaoru’s face, swathed in bandages, he might just wonder the same. _Why? Why not say something?_

He had told Langa _it’s okay if it’s you two._ As for him and Kaoru — 

It feels a little too late, to give themselves up to that total, reckless kind of love. You can only feel invincible for so long before things crash down. He wants them to have what he and Kaoru couldn’t — but now he wonders —

Does Kaoru know? 

They hold onto what they can — the bickering they refuse to outgrow, skating — and they reach across the gap of where they lost Adam. When it wasn’t enough to be there. In some sort of unspoken, desperate understanding, Kojiro thinks they’re both afraid to lose each other. And if they just don’t say anything, well, things won’t change too much, and they won’t get too close — and they won’t lose each other. 

_(As if they could get any closer, really.)_

It goes like this: if Kaoru leaves as soon as he wakes up, he can kiss Kojiro goodbye. If Kojiro and Kaoru spend enough time kicking each other at S, they can come and go together. If Kojiro flirts with other girls, it doesn’t matter that Kaoru will be the one he’s returning to. 

Because they’re not too close if it’s like that, won’t fall too hard if it’s like that.

Kojiro exhales shakily. He reaches out and grasps Kaoru’s hand gently, and wonders what Kaoru will say when he wakes up. 

Their arguing is a comfort, really. And it’s fun, too. Arguing with each other is just as freeing as skating together; no matter how far they go, they’re always going there _together._ Around each other, there’s no need to be anyone else but themselves, even if it’s their worst. 

Kojiro knows this, and yet he knows that they’re still both so afraid to take the next step. But now — now it feels like they might have reached a turning point. He knows Kaoru must be hurting, more than just the injuries — and he needs him to know, through and through, just how much he means to Kojiro. 

Fighting and kissing comes easier than sweet words for both of them, but when Kaoru wakes up — Kojiro might tell him just how much he loves him. Wholly and stupidly, then, now, and forever. 

* * *

When Kaoru finally wakes up, it’s dark outside, and the room is empty. There’s the soft glow and beep of the monitors, and there’s moonlight fighting through the window’s blinds, nearly closed but not enough. 

Kojiro’s jacket is bunched up in his hand, one of the sleeves dragging on the floor. Something wells up in Kaoru’s chest, his throat, and then the door opens. 

Light from the hallway, and Kojiro — there with a cup of coffee in his hand, there _shirtless_ and it’s so ridiculous and relieving that Kaoru starts to laugh and cry all at once. 

“Idiot, put on your jacket! Don’t walk around like that!” Kaoru can’t even move his arm enough to throw it, but he tries. It just ends up flopping on the ground. Kaoru may or may not cry a little harder. 

“You looked cold,” Kojiro explains. “So I left it with you. Hospital clothes are too thin, right?” 

“You just like parading around.” Kaoru sighs. Kojiro sits on the edge of the bed, rearranges the jacket around Kaoru. The coffee’s placed on the bedside table, where someone — Shadow, probably — has set a vase of flowers. 

“How long has it been?” Kaoru asks. 

“Just some hours,” Kojiro says. “Miya and Shadow were here, but they went home.”

_And you stayed?_

The lump in Kaoru’s throat is heavily steady, and he lowers his face, hoping to hell and back that Kojiro won’t notice.

He isn’t so lucky. 

“Hey, Kaoru.” Kojiro gently wipes the faint wetness on Kaoru’s cheeks. “How are you feeling?” 

“I should be asking you that. You look like shit,” Kaoru mutters, even as he leans into the touch. “Don’t be a hero on my behalf.” 

“You should see yourself, princess,” Kojiro bristles. “You’re cute and all, but if someone’s taking the cake for looking like shit…” 

It’s automatic, the way Kojiro’s hand caresses Kaoru’s cheek, fingers grazing the edge of a bandage. 

“I still look better than you,” Kaoru insists. “You haven’t slept?” 

“I slept a little,” Kojiro says, finally putting on his goddamn jacket. Kaoru zips it up stubbornly, even if his hand is shaking. Kojiro’s chuckle makes it worth it. 

“In that chair?” 

“Mhm.” Kojiro stretches out his legs, props them against the chair and leans, just a little, into Kaoru’s side. Kaoru can tell he’s holding back, trying not to put too much of his weight onto him. Not a comfortable position in the least, but Kaoru leans in, too, and rests his head against Kojiro’s. The mop of green hair is soft against his cheek. 

They sit in the quiet, shallowly breathing against the sound of the monitors. 

“Kaoru,” Kojiro finally says. 

“Yes, gorilla?” Kaoru replies. 

_“Kaoru.”_ His name is repeated with a soft, rolling laugh. “Seriously, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel fine.” His voice sounds distant. “Don’t. Don’t tell me…” 

“I wasn’t going to.” 

“Okay.” Kaoru closes his eyes. “Okay.” 

_I know you’re thinking about it. I know, I just can’t — not right now —_

“You were cool, you know, for a robot maniac.” Kojiro interrupts his train of thought, and shifts a little against him. His voice has gotten lower, sleepier. Maybe Kojiro is more comfortable than he had thought. 

Kaoru scoffs. “Glad you’ve seen the light.” 

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far.” Kojiro snorts. “But hey, Kaoru?” 

“Mm?” He’s getting tired, too, despite only being up for a bit. But his body _does_ ache, and Kojiro is warm against him. 

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Kojiro takes his hand, kisses his bandaged knuckles. “You can’t get rid of me.” 

“Idiot.” Kaoru knows he lets far too much fondness bleed into his voice, but can’t stop it. “As if…” 

_As if I would want to ever let you go._

* * *

Kaoru sleeps over again, and again. Kojiro has asked him nearly three times if he’s sure that he doesn’t want to go back to his own place. It’s another morning of waking up with Kaoru in the shell of his embrace that Kojiro asks again.

He regrets it almost instantly. 

“I want to stay with you,” Kaoru says in a small, small voice, and Kojiro doesn’t know what to say. 

_I’m not telling you to leave. I’m not saying I want to be without you._

“I would go back with you, baby, I promise,” Kojiro strokes Kaoru’s hair gently, avoiding the bandages carefully. “All your things are at home, right?” 

“I want to stay _here_ with you.” Kaoru says, stubborn and soft. “I have Carla. That’s all I need.”

“You sent me back yesterday because you said you were tired of my shirts, and that they make your eyes bleed.”

“Of course they do. You look much better with them off.” Kaoru smiles slyly, looking away when Kojiro whistles. 

“I thought you said my body is _unnecessary—”_

“Better doesn’t mean _good_.” 

“Is this where you say you’re into maid outfits? You _do_ have Carla call you Master…” Kojiro raises his eyebrows. 

Kaoru gives him an unimpressed look. “If it’s not an offer, I don’t want to hear it.” 

There’s a pause, Kaoru’s gaze a challenge and Kojiro’s — considering. 

“If you find one that fits, it’s an offer.” Kojiro pinches Kaoru’s cheek. “But you have to get a cute outfit too.” 

Kaoru narrows his eyes. “I don’t trust you.” 

“Yes, you do.” Kojiro squeezes Kaoru, just a bit. “So you wanna stay here with me, huh?” 

“Free bed and breakfast,” Kaoru quips. He tucks his head under Kojiro’s chin, as if it’ll stop Kojiro from seeing how red he’s turning. 

“Hey, like I’ve said, it’s always nice to have you here,” Kojiro says. “I love having you around. I — I love you.” 

The quiet yawns wide and loud, until Kaoru exhales softly and says, “I love you too, idiot.” 

“Thanks,” Kojiro says solemnly, fighting a grin when Kaoru huffs in irritation. 

“ _Thanks,”_ Kaoru imitates, even as his scowl is sliding into a smile. “Shut up, gorilla.” 

“But then how would you hear me tell you that I love you?” It’s a relief to say it so freely. He can’t remember why they waited so long — but maybe it had to be now. A morning together, the sun high and bright and spilling through to paint them in gold, and while they’ve always had mornings like this, it feels a little different today. There’s a bone-deep tiredness that they need to mend, and if Kojiro can offer these words as a salve, along with anything else that he can give, he will. 

“I can just feel it instead,” Kaoru grumbles. “I know you love me, stupid. And you better know too.” 

“Know that I love you?” 

Kaoru’s entire face is a deep red at this point. “That _I_ love _you.”_

“But if this was a contest, I would be winning.” 

“You would not.” 

“I would!” 

“Shut up,” Kaoru repeats, covering his face with his hands as he laughs. And Kojiro laughs with him, holds him close and covers his hands and hair with kisses until there, there’s Kaoru’s lips meeting his sweetly. 

Kojiro knows this is something that will never change: waking up with Kaoru, and falling in love with him more and more each day. 


End file.
